


Just another day in Beacon Hills

by DorianWilde



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Humor, I really love crossovers why do you not share this love with me?, Like, Romance, Sass, Snark, alien stuff, because torchwood, huh?, janto, seriously can someone for once read my crossovers?, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorianWilde/pseuds/DorianWilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is that a dragon?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just another day in Beacon Hills

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sirius_Doctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirius_Doctor/gifts).



> Merry Christmas hon!

A black SUV screeched to a halt in front of the old Hale house. The pack – Derek, Scott, Stiles, Peter and Isaac – tensed up. This day had been weird enough so far, they didn't need three people dramatically rushing out of a car, one of them wearing a fucking old school army coat. The other two, a man and a woman, looked normal enough, the man wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, the woman a short leather jacket and tight denims.

 

Still. Derek hadn't slept for thirty six hours, it was almost dawn and he just didn't feel like dealing with something that wasn't his bed back at his and Stiles' flat. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, keeping quiet, because according to Stiles it was rude to tell people to go away _especially this close to Christmas, Derek, wouldn't want to get coal in your stockings, now would you?_

  
“Hello, I'm captain Jack Harkness,” coat guy said, an air of authority around him. “And I'm guessing you're Beacon Hills’ local werewolf pack?”

 

The five of them tensed up, ready to fight.

 

“I'll take your cheerful exterior as a yes,” Jack continued merrily. “We'll be taking over this house for awhile. Ianto, would you-”

 

“I'm the Alpha here-” Derek began, because this guy was a freaking idiot and he couldn't just command them like he owned the place. Because he didn't, because _Derek_ owned the place. So there.

 

”Well, we're _Torchwood_ ,” Jack said, giving Stiles a once over before sending him a dazzling smile.

 

Derek wanted to punch him.

 

”Good for you,” Stiles snarked, rolling his eyes.

 

“I've heard about Torchwood. Rumors, mostly.” Peter studied the group in front of them. “They're hunters.”

 

“Oh for god's sake, enough with the fucking hunters,” Stiles threw his hands up. Derek silently agreed.

 

They'd had a lot of hunters running around lately, causing Derek's current state of sleep deprivation. Chris Argent had called for backup to deal with a large pack of pixies that had suddenly appeared in Beacon Hills a few weeks ago, not bothering to check if Derek had it in hand. Unfortunately, the new hunters didn't care if they shot the local pack _or the actual enemy._

 

Because hunters were idiots.

 

Derek didn't like having them on his territory.

 

And now when Derek had _finally_ , just a few hours ago, managed to get both hunters and pixies off his territory, here was _Torchwood._

 

Derek didn't like having _Torchwood_ on his territory.

  
Derek didn't like _any_ of these people making his life difficult.

 

Derek just didn't like people.

 

“You've encountered hunters before?” suit guy, presumably Ianto – unless Ianto was a girl’s name? – , asked in a thick, melodic accent.

 

Derek wanted to punch him too. For good measure.

 

“Well duh,” Stiles said. “If you haven't noticed, this place is _crawling_ with them. Or was, anyways.”

 

“Really?” the woman asked in surprise. “Well, Jack, this was unexpected,” she said, turning towards her colleague. She spoke in the same accent as suit guy. Definitely not Americans.

 

“Mm,” Jack agreed. “We really need to get to work.” He made a move as if to push past them. Derek, naturally, pushed Jack before Jack could push him because Derek refused to let anyone to push him around.

 

In a matter of seconds three guns were aimed at them.

 

“Whoa!” Stiles raised both hands, like they could stop a bullet or something.

 

Fucking idiot, honestly.

 

“Why do people always want to kill me?” Scott sighed. “Like, what did I ever do to people?” He sounded seriously upset about this, puppy eyes looking questioning at the assembled crowd.

 

“It's not wolfsbane bullets, use your nose,” Derek sighed. He shouldn't even have to tell him as much. Fucking hell _his life._ All he'd wanted to do was to spend Christmas eve watching sports and bickering with Stiles, but no. The _only_ positive thing right now was the fact that he'd managed to finish his Christmas shopping early before the pixies and the hunters had barged into their lives.

 

Shit hadn't hit the fan this hard since the alpha pack eight years ago.

 

“It's not silver either,” the woman said, presumably trying a different, we're-just-your-friendly-neighborhood-hunters, tactic.

 

“Who even cares?” Isaac said. The four wolves had automatically closed ranks in front of Stiles. Stiles was holding the mountain ash baseball bat he'd taken to keep on the porch. He'd made three, one for his dad's house, one for his and Derek's flat and the one he was currently holding.

 

“Sir,” suit guy said, touching Jack's arm.

 

“Ianto?” Jack asked, not taking his eyes off the pack. So Ianto wasn't a girl’s name after all.

 

“I think they think we're _werewolf_ hunters.”

 

“Oh. OH, right.” Jack lowered his gun. “We're _alien_ hunters. Well, not so much hunters as defending the earth in case threatening aliens show up.” He fired off another toothy smile. The amount of smiling going on just wasn't natural.

 

Peter said what they all felt. “... _aliens_?” Derek doubted no-one else could put as much disapproval, skepticism and sass into one word. Well, except maybe Stiles, with a few years of practice.

 

“ _Werewolves_ ,” Ianto said, in the exact same tone, which okay, made Derek reluctantly impressed.

 

“We've been called here by- you know what? That's classified. Anyway,” Jack continued, “our scanners are indicating this house is hosting something alien, most likely a device, we can't be sure without searching it.”

 

“Have you seen anything?” the woman asked. She looked suspiciously nice. Derek didn't trust her.

 

“No,” he said shortly, the rest of the pack shaking their heads, perfect poker faces in place. They hadn't seen anything … except for the fist sized yellow frozen ball of rock that had smashed through what was left off the roof at the back of the house while they were hiding from the hunters. Isaac had pointed out it looked like a snow ball made out of yellow snow, which was now very hard to un-see.

 

Five hours later and they still hadn't been able to make it stop glowing. Oh, and it smelled sour, like I-haven't-showered-for-a-month sour or an actual yellow _snow_ -snow ball. And it moved around from time to time, but only when no-one was watching. Derek guessed it was a bit shy.

 

Derek needed sleep, like, right now.

 

“We'll just check-” Jack began.

 

“No.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. He would love to be rid of the thing, but this was a matter of pride and territo-

 

“Can't we just give them the damn thing?” Stiles sighed, walking around his protective werewolf wall. “I swear to god it's looking at me and it's just fucking creepy, okay?”

 

“Agreed,” Scott said.

 

“Good lads,” Jack grinned, squeezing Stiles' shoulder.

 

“Remove your hand,” Derek snapped, tensing up. Jack raised both eyebrows.

 

“Or what?” he challenged.

 

“Or I'll-”

 

“-rip your throat out. With his teeth,” Stiles said gleefully, shaking the hand off. “What?” he said when Derek turned his glare towards him. “'s a good threat,” he shrugged, completely unapologetic. Sometimes Derek wondered what he saw in him. Stiles nudged his calf with his foot, smiling, eyes sparkling.

 

Oh. Right. That.

 

“He smells off,” Derek frowned, focusing on Jack again. He hadn't noticed until the other man had come to stand close up.

 

“Hey! I resent that,” Jack defended himself, Ianto rolling his eyes.

 

“Some kind of allure,” Derek continued, ignoring Jack's input.

  
“Jawline,” Jack grinned, striking a pose with his head.

 

“Pheromones,” Peter corrected, sounding amused.

 

Isaac returned – when had he left?– carrying the rolled up blanket they'd wrapped around the ball, to dampen the light and smell. The ball had somehow been able to move anyway, dragging the blanket with it. “Here's the piss ball,” he said, pressing the bundle into Jack's arms. “Merry Christmas. Now fuck off, would you? We're busy.”

 

“Why did you-” Derek started, annoyed at Isaac for handing the ~~piss ball~~ mysterious, possibly alien, artifact over to the intruders.

 

“God that smells,” Jack said at the same time, making a disgusted face. “This is worse than the room the Doctor collects single socks in,” he informed them as he unfolded the blanked, worsening the smell. The damn thing was glowing even brighter than before.

 

“I don't even want to know,” Ianto said tiredly. “Now what- oh.” The thing had just cracked, creating a small hole at the top. Jack helped it along, peeling away the shell.

 

“Hello, welcome to earth,” he said to the … alien. Derek repressed the urge to rub his eyes. “Isn't he adorable?” Jack cooed.

 

“Is that a dragon?” Stiles asked sceptically. “Like an ice dragon?”

 

“I guess that would be a good comparison,” Jack said, stroking the white shimmering, scaly muzzle. The smell had thankfully lessened.

 

“What are we going to name it?” Scott had edged closer, hand stretched forward tentatively.

 

“Ianto?” Jack asked, throwing him a smile. Ianto thought for a few moments.

 

“Jesus the second. They share the same birthday after all.” Ianto looked pleased with himself.

 

“Cool.” Scott grinned, gently petting it on its muffle. Stiles looked completely fascinated, especially when the thing began walking around in Jack's hands.

 

“You're all very calm about this,” Gwen said, looking at them curiously.

 

Stiles snorted, startling the dragon. “Like this is even weird compared to the pixies-”

 

“Or the trolls,” Isaac added.

 

“Weren't you leaving?” Derek interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest to keep from dragging Stiles away from ~~Jack~~ the alien/dragon.

 

“It's what we came for,” Jack confirmed reluctantly, gently putting the dragon into the metal box Gwen was holding up. “I guess that's all,” he said, eyes lingering on Stiles. Derek moved in front of him, giving Jack his best glare, eyes flashing red.

 

“How about not pissing off the alpha werewolf?” Ianto suggested dryly, tugging at Jack's arm. “Gentlemen,” he said, nodding at them.

 

“You know I like the pale, sassy ones,” Derek could hear Jack say once they'd begun driving.

 

“I'm not saying you don't have great taste,” Ianto drawled, making Gwen laugh, and then they were out of earshot.

 

As soon as the SUV was out of sight, Isaac stretched and yawned.

 

“Glad that's over,” he said as all of them, except for Peter, dragged themselves towards Scott's car.

 

“We could have been like that chic from Game of Thrones,” Stiles said longingly.

 

“That'd be awesome,” Scott said, yawning.

 

“Dragons are impractical,” Isaac muttered, obviously a bit miffed he had given it away.

 

“I think this,” Stiles made a vague gesture, referring to the piss-ball/ice dragon and alien hunters, “is definitely in the top five of weird-shit-we-have-had-to-deal-with-over-the-years.”

 

“Even weirder than the time you turned Isaac into a dryad?” Scott snickered as he strapped his seatbelt on, Isaac riding shotgun.

 

“Let's never talk about that incident again. Ever,” Isaac scowled. Derek snorted. The sight of Isaac wearing a flower crown, skipping around in the forest, lovingly talking to the trees was one of the funniest things he had ever seen.

 

Scott patted Isaac on the shoulder, still snickering. “My mom said to come over at five,” he reminded all of them, starting up the engine. “She said you'd bring the pudding and the ham?” he asked Stiles.

 

“Yup,” Stiles confirmed. “What do you think'll happen next time?” he asked, leaning forward, hand against Scott's backrest.

 

Derek yawned, closing his eyes, half asleep already. Stiles gently threaded their fingers together.

 

“We'll get attacked by evil santas and flesh eating reindeers,” Isaac suggested dryly, the others snorting.

 

Derek awoke moments later by the car screeching to a stop. A reindeer standing in the middle of the road stared at them, showing its carnivore teeth.

 

“Anyone else having a FML-moment?” Stiles asked as the reindeer threateningly began walking towards them. There was a weird noise, like some sort of alarm, and suddenly a man wearing a suit and fez came running out of the forest and pointed a green, buzzing flashlight at the reindeer. The reindeer stopped advancing on them, looking a bit dazed. The man jumped up on its back, riding off into the sunrise.

 

“Huh,” Stiles said after a few minutes of silence.

 

“Cool fez,” Scott remarked as he started the car again.

 

“Just another day in dear ol' Beacon Hills,” Isaac drawled.

 


End file.
